Golden Years

Monday, February 18, 2013

I am fine....Thank you

There's nothing the matter with me,
I'm as healthy as I can be,
I have arthritis in both my knees,
And when I talk, I talk with a wheeze,
My pulse is weak and my blood is thin,
But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in.

Arch supports on my feet,
Or I wouldn't be able to be on the street,
Sleep is denied me night after night,
But every morning I find I'm alright.
My mem'ry is failing, my heads in a spin,
But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in.

The moral is this, as the tale unfold,
That for you and for me who are growing old,
It's better to say I'm fine with a grin,
Then to let folks know the shape we are in.

How do I know that my youth is all spent,
Well, my get up and go has got up and went,
But I really don't mind when I think with a grin,
Of all of the grand places I have been.

Old age is golden, I've heard it said,
But sometimes I wonder as I get into bed,
With my ears in the drawer, and my teeth in a cup,
My eyes on the table until I wake up,
E're sleep comes o'er me, I say to myself,
Is there anything else I should put on the shelf?

When I was young my slippers were red,
I could kick my heels right over my head,
When I grew older, my slippers were blue,
But still I could dance the whole night through,
Now that I'm old my slippers are black,
I walk to the store and puff my way back,

I get up each morning and dust off my wits,
Pick up the paper and check the obits,
If my name is still missing, I know I'm not dead,
So I get a good breakfast and go back to bed.